


welcome to the Afterlife

by lucentic



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, M/M, an archive for shintarou x kazunari fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-04 11:59:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1080745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucentic/pseuds/lucentic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>an archive for shintarou x kazunari drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. There's a Crazy

**oo1. Twilight**   _  
_

  


Midorima always brings out the unexpected in Takao, even if he’s already a spontaneous young man by nature.

 

They’re on the way home from an extended practice, with their sweat-soaked jerseys jammed haphazardly into their bags (at least, that is the case for Takao, because Midorima always folds his neatly and puts it in a ziplock bag and then stashes it away on top of his books). Takao drags his feet, bone-tired, feeling every muscle in his body burn in protest to each movement he makes. Midorima, on the other hand, walks on with his back ramrod-straight, as if the five hours of gruelling training never happened. His strides are a little too long, a little too fast, and Takao struggles to keep up, bag bouncing on his shoulders.

  


“Shin-chan, slow down. I’m going to have to run if you continue like that.”

  


“Your unfortunate genetics are not of my concern, Takao,” Midorima says, but he slows down anyway, enough for Takao to slide into step with him. “I don’t even know why we’re walking instead of using the rickshaw today.”

  


“Hey, spare a thought for me,” Takao pouts. “My thighs are killing me after all those wall-squats.”

  


Midorima doesn't offer an answer, and they continue on. The sky is a cool blanket of rapidly deepening navy blue today, and if Takao uses a little bit of imagination, it would seem as if it was glittering. It’s summer, but there is a cool enough breeze blowing about that makes their sticky skin a little more bearable. But of course, everything is more bearable with Shin-chan around.

  


“Are you walking me home today?” Takao says hopefully, after they turn the corner of the street. Under the dull yellow of the streetlamps, Midorima’s eyelashes cast feathery shadows on the peaks of his cheeks, and the sight of it makes Takao’s toes curl, even if Midorima has an extremely disgruntled expression on his face.

  


“I should think not. My feet are blistering, and there are no buses that I could take back home from your place.”

  


“You could always stay over. It’s not like I don’t have spare clothes for you.” Takao’s probably pushing it at this point, wheedling at Midorima like that, but he doesn’t care. It’s been awhile since they had time to spend together, after the Inter-High.

  


“No.”

  


Takao harrumphs, but walks on, stretching his arms into the sky and occasionally glancing at Midorima. The taller isn't paying him any attention, and honestly Takao feels a little neglected. The street in front of them is long and dim and empty empty emp-

  
  


Something crackles into the night, and Takao jumps, hands immediately finding the crook of Midorima’s elbow for support. “What was that?”

  


“Some gravel that I kicked away. Now stop being skittish and let go of my arm, Takao, we’re out in the streets.”

  


“No way.” Takao clings on even harder, persistently now that he's had an opportunity to touch him, even when Midorima’s elbow stiffens and he tries to shake off his point guard. Eventually the green-haired boy gives up, and Takao happily rearranges his grip so that he’s holding onto Midorima’s forearm. He’s got his sleeves rolled up and Takao very much likes the feeling of warm, strong skin beneath his fingertips.

  


“I don’t know why you like to do embarrassing things like that, Takao. Have you no sense of preservation for your public image?”

  


“It’s not embarrassing if I’m doing it to you, Shin-chan,” Takao singsongs, headbutting the taller on the arm. “Besides, it’s dark and scary out. I need your protection.”

  


Midorima grinds his teeth audibly. “I am not walking you home, Takao.”

  


“Aw, come on Shin-chan. We haven’t spent time together in ages, and you wouldn't want me to make my way home all by myself in the dark, won’t you? You know how out-of-the-way my house is.” Takao cranes his neck up, sticking out his bottom lip as far as it would go.

  


“Stop that, it’s not a good look on you. And since you know full well how out-of-the-way it is for you, then you should also be thinking about how it is the same for me, as well.”

  


“Shin-chaaaaaaaan,” Takao whines, drawing out the nickname. He’s resorted to childishly gripping onto Midorima’s forearms and swinging it about like a petulant child, liking the way how the taller boy’s blush becomes more and more evident with each swing. “Please walk me home. Look at all the ugly shadows - who knows what’s hiding in them? If they jump out at me you wouldn’t have anyone to pass you the ball.”

  


“ _Stop whining_ , I said-”

  


Whatever Midorima wants to say has been cut off, strangled in his throat, as Takao stops in his tracks and reaches up to yank his head down so their lips can meet. Midorima is still straining against his grip, but Takao isn’t weak either, managing to hold the taller in place and brush their noses together. Midorima is fervently avoiding his gaze, and Takao feels the back of his neck heat up even more.

  


“You’re really cute, you know, Shin-chan. Just admit that you want to walk me home already.”

  


Midorima blusters, much to Takao’s delight. Maybe some day he’ll be paying for it in hell, teasing his boyfriend like that, but right now he’s having way too much fun. He’s not even the least bit ruffled by the dark of the night; messing around with Midorima just happens to be one of his favorite past times. “I do not.”

  


“Oh Shin-chan, just do it already. I’ll even give you my bed if you want, I know how much you hate sharing beds. My parents are out of town again by the way, just in case you actually want to share a bed.” Takao wriggles his eyebrows suggestively, and then bites back a happy sigh because why is watching Midorima have an internal struggle so cute.

  


“You’re going to sleep on the ground, on the other end of the room.”

  


“Shin-chan!” Takao squeals happily, and Midorima is almost knocked over again by the shorter jumping on top of him and clinging like a koala bear. For someone who’s claimed that wall squats killed his thighs, he’s not having a lot of trouble squeezing Midorima’s waist with his own legs. “I knew you just needed some time to admit it. You’re so adorable.”

  


“Get off me Takao.” Midorima attempts at being stern, pushing up at his glasses, but fails miserably because Takao just clings harder and kisses him on the cheek. Takao is just disappointed that it’s dark enough so he can’t see Midorima’s pretty skin light up.

  


“Just so you know, I’m probably going to climb into bed with you anyway later. I’ve always had an irrational fear of monsters under my bed.”

  


“That’s it, I’m going the other way.”

  


“ _Shin-chan_!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 **oo2. Burn**  

  


It’s really hard to believe that the two of them are the same age, Midorima and Takao. Midorima is a good six foot five, with seriousness that he incorporates into every aspect of his life that scares even his seniors at times. On the other hand, Takao’s head barely clears Midorima’s shoulder, standing at a five foot nine, and he’s often been given a good kick and a smack around the head for making too many inappropriate jokes or for laughing too loudly.

  


For the record, Takao Kazunari is the one person that Midorima least expects himself to find himself interacting with. Not that he has a choice, of course. He tends to lose that basic human right when it comes to Takao in general.

  


“Shin- Chan- _ow_ -” Right now, Takao is violently fanning at his tongue, his chopsticks left abandoned on the countertop. One is on the verge of rolling off the table, so Midorima reaches over to grab it before it does. When he leans over, he also spots the culprit of Takao’s burned mouth lying on his left thigh. _Disgusting_.

  


“You’ve got omelette rice on your lap. You should probably clean that up before it stains your shorts.”

  


“Shin-chan, I’m sitting here with a burned mouth and all you can say is ‘clean yourself up’?” It’s quite hard to understand Takao when he has his tongue hanging out of his mouth, and Midorima can’t quite hold back a comment about him looking like a puppy in heat. Takao kicks him under the table.

  


“It hurts, Shin-chan. Help me.”

  


When Takao asks for help, he doesn’t mean for Midorima to sigh long-sufferingly and stick his fingers into his almost empty juice glass for some ice, and hold it in front of the shorter’s mouth. “Have some ice for the pain. See if you’ll be stupid enough to shovel burning food into your mouth again after this- _Takao_!”

  


The other, pretty much forgetting about his burn already, takes the ice from Midorima by sucking it in, his lips purposefully brushing against the tips of the shooter’s taped fingers. Midorima snatches his hand back, disgusted after Takao’s pink tongue slips out again to run itself up the length of his middle finger.

  


But there’s no denying the embarrassed _hmph_ that escapes his lips when he pushes his glasses up, shaking his bangs in front of his face to further hide the blush skating across his face.

 

 


	2. you are the end of the rainbow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lying half-sprawled on the filthy floors of Shuutoku High's gym toilets is pretty much Midorima's nightmare, but it's kind of worth it if Takao is making noises like that.

**oo3. Silence**

  
  


On hindsight, Takao should’ve known that something was up, given that Midorima was holding a finger to his lips and behaving as if he had an even bigger stick than usual stuck up his ass for the entire training practice.

  
  


“What’s wrong, Shin-Chan?” Takao says worriedly, craning his neck up to look at the taller. Midorima says nothing, and only takes slow, predatory steps forward that has Takao faltering and taking unsure, backward steps of his own. “Shin-Chan?”

  
  


“Quiet, Takao.” The point guard suddenly finds his back pressed up against the cold, damp, and possibly mouldy wall of the showers, and if he wasn’t so intimidated by the serious look on Midorima’s face, he would probably have jumped about six feet in the air, howling with disgust. But right now he’s topless, vulnerable and hunching just a little slightly in front of the tall, intimidating figure of Midorima.  

  
  


“I don’t understand, Shin-chan, did I, you know, do something? Because if I did you could totally tell me right now and I’ll make it up to you, just don’t look at me like that, I don’t know if I want to die this young-”

  
  


Midorima sighs impatiently, long fingers going up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Takao, please shut up before I start to have more second thoughts.”

  
  


Takao opens his mouth, but this time nothing comes out, because to his utter confusion and shock, Midorima has his hands on his waist, surprisingly gentle, and sliding to his knees.

  
  


“I don’t understand- _holy fuck_!” Takao’s babbling is cut off with a surprised whine as Midorima runs a hot palm down his crotch, a heavy weight that instantly has him hard.

  
  


What confuses him even more is how his jersey shorts are pulled down in one swift motion, left to pool at his ankles. Suddenly the world is spinning, and he grabs Midorima’s hand- _such pretty fingers_ , the voice in his head vaguely sighs- before the shooter has a chance to peel away his boxers. too.

  
  


“Shin-chan, what are you trying to do? This is the showers, what if someone walks in on us? And why are _you_ going down on _me_?”

  
  


“Takao!” The sharp bark of his name makes Takao stop short, but at least Midorima’s hands aren’t moving anymore. The shorter takes it as a good sign that he’s allowed to hold on, and does. “Enough with the questions.”

  
  


“But-”

  
  


Midorima’s expression remains largely unchanged, but Takao can see the red flush slowly creeping up from the collar of his jersey from where he kneels. “I can’t believe that I have to explain myself to you. It’s your birthday next week, but I will be going overseas with my family. Hence the- present.” Midorima scowls, and looks away.

  
  


Takao can’t believe what he’s hearing, and a surprised laugh bursts from his lips before he realises what he’s just done to Midorima’s self-esteem, and clamps a hand on himself. It must have taken a lot for the other to decide to do something like this for him. “I’m sorry Shin-chan. But you don’t have to give me a blowjob as a birthday present, I’m not going to hold it against you for not being able to spend it with me!”

  
  


Midorima just sighs. “Can we get it over and done with, or are you going to continue killing the mood?”

  
  


“But I’m the one who goes down in this relationship, Shin-chan. And besides, you’re a neat freak. It must feel disgusting for you to be kneeling on the dirty shower floors of our school.”

  
  


“I’m glad you know how uncomfortable this is,” Midorima grumbles, still looking anywhere but Takao. “So will you please just accept it and stop making a fuss out of nothing?”

  
  


Takao doesn’t answer, and chews on the inside of his cheek. It’s definitely not nothing. He’s touched, really, by Midorima’s gesture. The green-haired boy is an individual of propriety and conduct, and for him to do something _filthy_ , for him to do things that Takao usually got smacked around the head for doing, almost made him feel like crying.

  
  


So he tries to pull Midorima up by the hand, and squatting down himself. “You know, Shin-chan, you really don’t have to do this. I appreciate the thought, I never thought that you would even be willing to do something like that for me, in _public_ , no less. But I can take care of you instead, Shin-chan.” Takao lets his voice drop an octave lower, and slips a hand teasingly around the band of Midorima’s jersey shorts, watching as the taller stiffens.

  
  


But he doesn’t get his way. Midorima has surprising strength, and with a swift motion, he has Takao pinned to the shower wall by his shoulders, butt flush on the floor. The shorter doesn’t even remember how Midorima got between his legs that fast.

  
  


“But I want to do it for you. So stop your inane babbling right now unless you don’t want my present.”

  
  


“I do I do,” Takao cries, his own arms shooting up to grasp at Midorima’s forearms. He really does want it, because never in his wildest dreams has he ever thought of _Midorima_ going down on _him_ , but at the same time he knows that it’s a lot to ask of the older boy. “But do you even know how this works?”

  
  


Midorima rolls his eyes, and it would have been cool if he the blush hadn’t already spread to his cheeks. “I am nothing if not prepared, Takao. I looked it up on one of those shitty porn websites I see you frequent, and I think I know you well enough to give you what you want. And besides, you can always tell me what you want.”

  
  


Takao isn’t given a chance to reply, because Midorima stretches himself out on the floor, sighs under his breath and closes his wet, hot mouth around the head of his cock.

  
  


“ _Jesus_.” It’s not like anything Takao’s ever felt before - sure, he’s had his own fair share of experience with girls before he realised that he was about as straight as a banana for his teammate, but Midorima’s mouth takes the cake.

  
  


Midorima is obviously inexperienced, evident from the way he hollows out his cheeks awkwardly in order to accommodate Takao, and from the way he takes the shorter in, inch by inch, like a child testing the depth of a body of water before deciding how far to go. But he makes up for it with finesse - Takao knows that Midorima has a talent with his tongue, despite the fact that he always groused that making out was filthy because of the exchange of saliva going on. But as Midorima slowly, surely, _filthily_ runs a heavy tongue up the underside of his cock, Takao feels like he’s about to explode.

  
  


“Nnn- Shin- _chan_ -” A whine escapes from Takao’s throat, higher than he ever thought himself capable of producing, when Midorima gives him one particularly hard suck.

  
  


It’s probably not possible for anyone else to pull it off but Midorima. The other looks up at him, but instead of a coquettish grin, Midorima has on a predatory glare, as if _he’s_ the one getting sucked off. It kind of turns Takao on, though, even though he feels like wilting under the intensity of the glare.

  
  


“Will you shut up or do you want us to be walked in upon?” Midorima doesn’t take his mouth off his cock when he talks. The vibrations has Takao unintentionally slamming his head back against the wall, and he moans both from the pain and pleasure.

  
  


“If you- _hng_ keep doing that- I can’t shut up-”

  
  


“Then learn to.” Midorima flits his tongue lazily over the slit repeatedly, and Takao’s hands eventually find themselves twisted in the taller’s hair, lip bitten enough to almost draw blood in an effort to keep the noises in.

  
  


Some of them ricochets off the walls anyway. But he supposes it doesn’t matter if Midorima isn’t going to complain about him almost ripping his hair out.

  
  


“Shin- _chan_ -”

  
  


“Are you close, Takao?” Midorima says, placidly, as if he’s only talking about the fucking weather, voice so deep and rumbling that Takao cants, hard into Midorima’s mouth. The other gags, ever so slightly, and for a moment Takao’s eyes widen because Midorima is tearing up.

  
  


“Oh my god, I’m so sorry Shin-chan, I didn’t mean to-”

  
  


But whatever he wants to say is lost when Midorima takes a deep breath and goes down _again_ , holding onto Takao’s hips so that when he hits the base of his throat, he doesn’t choke him with cock.

  
  


By now, Takao is a writhing, withering mess on the filthy bathroom floor, hissing a plethora of obscenities that would have Midorima knocking him out for all that impropriety in other occasions. But not this time. Midorima picks up the pace, trying not to gag as he lets Takao fuck his mouth, slowly, thoroughly, fingers pressing bruises into his hips.

  
  


“Shin-chan, what if the senpai-”

  
  


“I know,” Midorima gasps, though Takao can barely hear what he’s saying. mouth stretched full like that. “So hurry up.”

  
  


Sure enough, (Takao is almost certain Midorima is blaming it on his unlucky mouth) there is an echoing of footsteps in the hallway. And a yelling in the distance, unmistakably Otsubo’s.

  
  


“Oi, first years, what the hell is taking you guys so long? We’re going to leave you both behind if you don’t stop mucking around in the bathroom!”

  
  


In spite of himself, Takao lets out a breathy laugh. “D’you think he knows?”

  
  


Midorima simply rumbles a _no_ , and hums appreciatively as Takao’s nails scrape unexpectedly against his scalp.

  
  


“Oi, we’re giving you all five minutes! _Five_!”

  
  


Of course, it takes less than that for Takao to come, shooting into Midorima’s mouth because his feeble attempts to avoid doing that are lost under Midorima’s resistance. It’s an awfully beautiful sight that brings a heavy color to Takao’s cheeks, Midorima trying his best to swallow every single drop of Takao, lips covered in a light sheen of _him_.

  
  


Midorima finally pulls away, dragging his hand across his mouth. Takao stands, clinging onto the other for support, dragging up his jersey pants, despite them being soaked by the wet floor. “Thank you, Shin-chan, I really love your birthday present!”

  
  


Midorima makes a noise of disgust when Takao angles his head up in an attempt to kiss him. “That is unsanitary, Takao.”

  
  


“So what? You’ve tasted me. I can taste myself.” Takao insistently presses himself forward, lips searching, until Midorima sighs self-sufferingly (or at least he would like to think he sounded like that) and leans forward, soft, full lips on Takao’s own.

  
  


But they don’t have time for cuddling or basking in the afterglow, of course. The bathroom door swings open with a mighty bang, and a towering, glowering Otsubo is standing in the doorway, with Miyaji right behind him.

  
  


Midorima immediately lets go of his waist and pushes Takao away. The shorter stumbles and almost falls backward.

  
  


“Ow, that’s mean Shin-chan!”

  
  


“Why,” Otsubo thunders, “are neither of you changed or showered yet?”

  
  


As punishment, Midorima makes Takao drive their rickshaw the long way back to his house, since they have to return home in sweat and water-soaked jerseys.

  
  


But Takao doesn’t really mind.

  
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
  



	3. it's Too Cold (For You, Here And Now)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's funny how the hawk turns out to be a magpie at heart.

Contrary to popular belief,  Takao Kazunari does keep a few secrets to himself.

  
  


He doesn't tell Midorima how almost anyone who knows him (Takao seethes when he has to phrase it like that, because no they _don't_ ) holds an unnecessary prejudice against him, even his teammates. Sure, Shuutoku's ace is smart and talented, but he's also _weird, pretentious, creepy, neurotic_ \- the list goes on, really. Takao knows that Midorima isn't a delicate flower, and if he doesn't know this truth already he's going to be able to take it in his stride. But despite knowing all that, Takao finds himself going out of his way to make sure that Midorima hears nothing about it, at least not in front of him. He steers the taller in the opposite direction when he comes to class early and finds Midorima's deskmate bitching about him, and bursts into loud renditions of annoying pop songs when Miyaji is getting ready to rip the unflustered first-year a new one.

  
  


There are also people who think that Midorima is a controlling and abusive friend. Takao just wants to shove his face into their personal spaces and yell that Midorima actually _cares_ , he's just too tsundere to show it properly, that he's dedicated and loyal and passionate when it comes to something he loves, that he sadly has a one-track mind that won't deviate off-course to spare him a glance, but it's okay because it means he's determined, _and_.

  
  


But there are a minority of people who actually like Midorima, or at least are curious about him. It should be a good thing, but another secret that Takao keeps to himself is how he steals and keeps the few letters and gifts that Midorima would have otherwise received from the rare admiring female who probably saw that he wasn't as fucked-up as everyone thought he was. The green-haired boy is handsome, actually, so that should come as no surprise. And Takao should be happy for him, but he isn't.

  
  


He finds himself filching the letters and trinkets out of Midorima's possessions and storing them in a box he has at home, with repeated promises that he's going to apologise at their graduation and return everything to him, if he promises that he won't flay Takao to within an inch of his life. Sometimes Takao behaves like a teenage girl, but he isn’t proud of it.

  
  


They also say that birds like shiny things, but the reason Takao hoards these items are borne from a different kind of emotion. And it bothers him; he never wanted to become a paradox.

  
  


He doesn't tell Midorima, or anyone else for that matter that the reason he was so sick the last term was because he had overheard the commanding, absolute captain of Teiko summon Midorima and Midorima alone, in the middle of their lunch. And the taller had left Takao immediately, despite his protests on how Akashi was a piece of shit who treated Midorima like one, and _are you sure you want to listen to the orders of someone almost broke you over the one thing you truly love from the bottom of your hard heart?_

  
  


Midorima had visibly flinched, but he never turned back. The only thing he left as a parting shot was "Don't talk about Akashi like that. You don't understand."

  
  


Takao never does, alright. Soon after, he's kneeling with his head stuck on the toilet, puking his guts out from the memory of Midorima's curled, shaking fists, and is sent home for two days straight. But the story he tells everyone, including Midorima, was that the fish in his bento wasn't fresh.

  
  


He's not silly the way Midorima thinks he is.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


But there are also little secrets, things that he keeps on the tip of his tongue or halfway down his throat. They probably don’t matter to anyone else except for him, but all the same, he keeps mum, little things that bring curious sensations to his stomach.

  
  


He doesn’t talk to anyone about how he purposely loses at janken every day just so that he can drive Midorima home, even if it makes his thighs feel like they’ve been sent to the deepest pits of hell after going up the ridiculously steep hill that leads to the taller’s house. He thinks being called an idiot a few more times by Midorima is worth it if he can see the slight curl of the other’s lip when he wins every time, and the way he pushes up his glasses and blinks twice, adorably (at least to Takao), as if nothing had happened and it was only natural for him to get into the rickshaw and wait for his best friend to take him home. And Takao likes the silences they fall into after a while, and if he strains his ears hard enough on a lucky day, he can hear Midorima humming under his breath.

  
  


And nobody ever, _ever_ gets to hear about that one time where Midorima slept over at his house and reluctantly borrowed his jacket because his own was still in the wash. Takao, against his better judgement and woozy with sleep, had brushed his fingertips over Midorima’s eyelashes and pressed his nose to his jacket, just to see if the fabric had already begun to absorb the taller boy’s smell (it had).

  
  


Takao may or may not have let a sigh that sounded very much like _I love you_ slip from between his lips when he finally lay down beside Midorima, close but not enough so that their fingertips barely touched, listening to the sound of the whirring fan and the steady breathing of the shooter until sleep took him.

  
  


But that may or may not be a secret that Midorima knows.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so disappointed in this chapter, it was supposed to be good ugh


End file.
